


Love, your fool

by Nightink_Pen



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, Love Letters, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Watford (Simon Snow), Watford Eighth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26134288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightink_Pen/pseuds/Nightink_Pen
Summary: Baz is writing love letters, to Simon, telling him everything he ever wanted to say. Not that Snow will ever see them. But then again, Simon is always after evidence of Baz's 'plotting'.
Relationships: Dev/Niall (Simon Snow), Keris & Trixie (Simon Snow), Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow & Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 15
Kudos: 238





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I have been reading the works of this fandom for some time, and finally decided to give it a go and try to write one. This is my first fic, so any comments would be deeply appreciated.  
> Anyway.  
> I hope you enjoy!

**Simon**

Baz was plotting. Well, Baz was always plotting, but now I had proof.  
There has been at least three times that when I entered our room, he slammed his hand down on a piece of paper, tucking it out of sight when he thought I wasn't looking.  
Writing down his schemes, without a doubt.  
I tried confronting him about it, it didn't end well.  
I was late to Murmmurs after classes, Penny had dragged me to the library, something about spells, Rome and 19th century novels. So when I finally hauled myself up the stairs, Baz was already there, looking as fucking graceful as ever, leaned over his desk, scribbling furiously.  
He jumped when I closed the door, dropping his pen and flipping the paper over with what I was sure was vampire speed.  
"Baz, what are you writing?" I said, setting down my rucksack.  
"None of your business Snow." He turned away from me.  
"What are you plotting?"  
"The merwolves demise." He deadpanned.  
I narrowed my eyes at him, stepping into his space, seeing the slight hitch of his breath as I leaned closer. Obviously guilty.  
"I know you are plotting, tell me."  
He stood up, lightning quick, towering over me with his advantage of three inches.   
"I said, it is none of your business Snow." His eyes were cold, like shining silver metal, staring me down.  
"Yes it is."  
"No Snow, it is not, now please, get your face away from me, I have homework to attend to."  
I made a dive for the paper, but he grabbed it, holding it above his head, writing on the other side.  
"Anathema!" Baz yelled, as I made a move to jump for it.  
With one last growl I turned away, looking back to catch him slipping the paper inside a book. Aha.  
We spent the rest of the afternoon in tense silence, Baz reading and me trying to make sense of my Greek homework, more often than not thought drifting to the paper, whatever it was that Baz was doing. I had to investigate.  
The opportunity came later that same week, Baz was at football practice, and I would normally go watch him, dragging Penny with me.  
"Simon, there is no way he can be plotting during practice!" She said, already exasperated.  
"He might be!" I said, "Besides, he definitely uses his vampire abilities on the pitch, nobody is that good at football." It really wasn't fair, he could run around for ages and barely break a sweat, the only sign that he had been doing anything was that his black hair fell in waves around his face, when usually it was slicked back. I don't know why he did it, it looked better loose.  
Penny rolled her eyes at me, we have been through this before, "You don't even know if he is a vampire."  
"See? Watching him I get proof!"  
"Come on Si, there must be something else you can do instead of watching Baz Pitch play, again."  
I stopped in my tracks, when the brilliant thought appearing in my mind, I grinned at Penny "You're right."  
"I usually am." She said, stopping next to me.  
"I am going to my room." I said, already walking away.  
"Don't forget the Elocutions assignment!" Penny yelled after me.  
Shit, I had forgotten, but I would think about it later, for right now the room was empty, and Baz would not be back until much later, so I had all the time in the world to look at his schemes.  
Once in the room I went directly to Baz's desk, looking over his textbooks, in the drawers, for the book he had tucked the paper into. After many minutes of searching, in his desk, under the bed, in his overly neat closet, where the smell of him, cedar and bergamot was strongest. I had found nothing.  
I passed my hand through my hair, looking over the room, magic rising to sizzle under my skin. I didn't dare use it, I would probably end up blowing the roof of Murmmurs, and Baz would hate me more for that.  
It still coiled around me, hot and smelling like a wood fire. I looked under the bed again, finding nothing but salt and vinegar chip crumbs.  
"Come on Baz, **what are you hiding**?" I didn't mean to speak the words with magic, I never mean anything when it comes to my magic, and sometimes it just did stuff, usually something big, flashy and against me.   
Afraid of what I would see, I raised my head, I hadn't heard any explosions, so that was a good sign. Finally, I opened my eyes, looking around the unchanged room. Except, something had changed, for a pale light filtered through Baz's closet doors.  
I almost tripped over my own feet in getting there, yanking the doors open, and shoving his neatly pressed trousers and shirts aside. At the back of the closet was a book, and as soon as I grabbed it the light around it faded.

_The complete works of Oscar Wilde._

On the cover the image of a handsome bloke that reminded me a bit of Baz. But that was not the point, I flipped through the pages, holding my breath, and found not only one paper tucked into the book, but several.  
How complicated was his plot? I thought, pulling one of them out, a cream colored paper, unbearably posh, like Baz.  
In a dark green ink it read:

_To, an absolute nightmare_  
_You are a human disaster. You would trip over your own shoe laces if it weren't for the fact that your shoes don't have laces. Barely competent in everything. Yet, I have seen you at your best, strong and sure, making snap decisions that ensure you and those you care about get to live. Crowley, and I love that about you, you are brave, and strong, a so, so alive._

_Love, your fool._

My mind was blank, staring at the paper, thoughts jumping around like radio static. Baz couldn't have written this, he couldn't. The possibility of Baz having more than two emotions, annoyed and bored, it was ridiculous. But it was Baz's handwriting, slanted and neat and looking like a work of art. Even his name was monogrammed at the top of the paper, his full name Tyrannus Basilton Grimm Pitch.  
What the hell was going on?  
I stuffed the paper back. The book felt dangerous now, like another polecat.  
Maybe it was a one time thing. Maybe it was for a class. Or maybe Baz made a business of writing love letters in his free time. Or they were for Agatha (unlikely, after Baz she was the most graceful person I knew), or some other girl Baz was trying to seduce as part of an evil plan.  
The thought made my blood boil.  
I opened the book again, picking another paper, guilt already pricking on my neck. But I had to know, didn't I?  
It was a different paper, a different colored ink, but the same handwriting.

_To, my impossible dream:_  
_Seeing you with her hurts. As if my insides are being ripped out. Seeing you hold her hand, give her your soft smile and know that you will never look that way at me. That I will never be able to just lean against you, wrap around you in the dark, kiss you goodbye or good morning, call you my boyfriend. The most I can dream of is a single kiss, made of raw emotion, before everything ends._

_Love, your fool._

No. What?  
Baz was writing love letters. Love letter to a bloke! Not that there was anything wrong with that, in fact, it felt absolutely right.  
Who knew Baz could write this way. Like straight from a romance movie, with the big confessions and the kisses under the rain.  
My chest aches reading it, I could feel his longing, almost picture him and his lover, peacefully side by side. And how much it hurt knowing that could never happen.  
But this was Baz. Why would he write this?  
At least it wasn't for Agatha. But the thought that it was for a guy didn't sit well with me either, like swallowing acid (I should know, who knew manticores aim for the mouth?).  
I slipped the paper back, tucking the book back at the bottom of the closet. Even rearranging his clothes.  
I felt terrible, like I had just read Baz's mind. I had. In a way. And I didn't like it.  
I flopped down on my bed, staring at the ceiling.  
The thought that the reserved Baz Pitch was pinning, that he fancied someone. (Not someone, a bloke). It was worse than plotting. I didn't know why.

**Baz**

Snow's been giving me weird looks all day. When I jeered at him in class, he didn't fight back, just looked at me like a lost puppy, something akin to sympathy softening his features.  
It unnerved me. Seeing Snow be nice, to me.  
And I had no idea why.  
At first, and for a few anxious moments I thought that he had found the letters. My letters to him, where I wrote down everything I would never get to tell him.  
But that was impossible, they were well hidden. I had spelled so many concealment on them, it took me some minutes to undo them all when I wanted to hide a new one.  
And even if he had, Snow was thick (In mind and in body. Crowley, I shouldn't think like this). He wouldn't know they were about him. I kept out specifics, and as much as I would love to write about his moles and the constellation I wanted to draw on his skin, it would be too obvious. And I may be pathetic in my pinning, but caution is basically a Pitch's second nature.  
I resolved to ignore Snow for the rest of the day. If angry Simon was hard to not kiss, when he was looking at me that way, it was almost impossible. Perhaps I would write about it, later.  
For now I would shove it down like the rest of my feelings for Simon, proceed as if his actions didn't affect me.  
Yet, old habits were hard to break, and I couldn't miss this opportunity to make fun of him. He was, after all, a human disaster.  
I walked into our room to find him, a) shirtless and b) waving his sword, the Sword of Mages, around like a bloody maniac. Curls sticking to his forehead, cheeks red and puffing.  
"Snow, would it be that hard for you to not practice in our room? I'd rather not waste my magic conjuring up a new bed."  
He stopped, lowering the sword.  
"Sorry Baz." He mumbled, already moving for a shirt.  
"What?" I must be hallucinating, Snow didn't actually listen to me and decided the best course of action was to do as I had told him?  
"I'm sorry, I'll go out." He shouldered past me, still by the door, smelling way better than he should by how much he was sweating, like butter and sunlight.  
"See you Baz."  
I didn't respond, one more weird action away from openly gaping at him.  
He gave me one last look, soft and unsure, before disappearing.  
Few minutes after he left, once I had collected myself some (not much), I sat down at my desk, producing a sheet of paper.

_To, bloody sunshine_  
_What are you doing? Why are you acting like this? Civility is, nice, but that is not how we are. It is always insults and fights, not whatever it is you are doing. I don't know if I can take it._

A pause, I didn't know if I wanted to sign this one. But he had left me speechless, so I guess it was still appropriate. So I added with a flourish.

_Love, your fool._

I set the pen down, feeling immediately better, a bit of the confusion and the longing trapping themselves on the page, leaving my head clearer, lighter.  
That was the purpose of the letters after all, for me to have a way to let go of many of these feelings. I may not go off when stressed, like Simon, but still having everything trapped inside, and not telling anyone. It got tiring after some years.  
I was still surprised I had not thought of it sooner, or thought of it at all.  
The letters were, in fact, Fiona's idea.  
I had come out to her as gay this past summer, and in the process admitted my hopeless crush on Simon Snow. And instead of smacking me on the head for falling in love with the Mage's Heir, of all men, she had risen from the couch and come back with a piece of paper and a pen.  
"Spit it out Basil, it will help, so you don't make yourself a fool in your pinning."  
"I can't."  
"You can, just write down what you want to tell him."  
Her voice was soft, something very unusual for my aunt, I sensed more than knew, that she talked from experience. So I gingerly took the pen, stopping mere breaths from the paper.  
"No, I really can't."  
"Fine." Fiona said, dragging herself back up, "Let's at least have a drink."  
Ah, there was the Fiona I knew.  
We both got hammered that night in her flat, both of us drinking to forget, I think. Ignoring the paper, still on the coffee table. But that didn't stop the idea from taking roots in my mind.  
And resist as I might, it didn't let go.  
I caved the second week of term, after watching Snow gorge himself on scones, sending me a look (that I still don't know how to interpret) as he licked the butter from his fingers.  
Making quick excuses to Dev and Niall, I ran from the dining hall, ending up in the Catacombs.  
I paced, letting my fantasies run wild. Catching a few rats and draining them. Until eventually, I found myself in front of a blank page. And started writing.

_To, butter fiend,_  
_Why? Why do you love butter so much? If it weren't for Bunce stopping you, you would eat whole sticks at breakfast. Absolutely disgusting. Crumbs on your shirt and on your lips. I want to lick them off, and maybe lick some more._

I stared at my writing. Merlin and Morgana, I was in too deep.  
_Love, your fool._ For that is what I was, loving Simon Snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Edited for format)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon plots. Baz panics.

**Baz**

The days went by, and Snow didn't respond. He even stopped the staring matches we usually had during dinner. 

I felt lost. Hurt even. I had even started closing the window, just before I went to sleep, just to piss him off. It didn't work. 

So I left it, spending less and less time in our room, away from Snow and his soft looks. Lurking about the Catacombs, or with Dev and Niall, if they gave me the time of their day. Since getting together the two were insufferable. 

But I knew (I hoped) the silence wouldn't last long.

"Baz." Snow whispered in the dark of our room.

I had just gotten back, staying out much later, draining more rats than strictly necessary. "What Snow." 

"Do you- you know- um…"

"Use your words."

He glared at me through the dark. I don't know how well he could see me, but I could see him. Every last detail, his mouth hanging open, his disheveled curls, his deep blue eyes.

"Um, f-fancy someone?" The last part was merely a whisper, half spoken into his pillow. If it weren't for the fact I have enhanced vampire senses, I would have thought I had misheard him.

"What?" 

"Yeah, um, like  _ like  _ someone."

"Yes, Snow, I know what you meant." I understood the words, but there was something underneath. I tried to push down the hope, that maybe, just maybe, he asked because he was interested. It was probably just his intent of making friends with everyone. 

Perhaps this had to do with the way he had been acting. What a fool, of course it did. But why?

"Baz? Are you still awake?"

I let out a long sigh. 

"Yes you absolute nightmare."

He froze, eyes wide and staring. 

"Are you doing to answer the question?"

I didn't, only turning onto my side, burrowing deeper into the covers.

Not soon after I heard Snow's breaths deepen, soft snores that meant he was asleep.

I lay there in the moonlight. Thinking his words over. And in the silence I whispered, "Yes, I do."

  
  


**Simon**

I need to talk to Penny. It has been eating me up not being able to tell her about Baz. His letters.

I don't know why I haven't told her. It's too personal. And besides, if I told her she would have made me think about it. And I don't want to, I don't want to think what this all means. 

I asked him if he fancied someone, I wasn't planning on it, I just did. I already knew the answer, why did I ask him?

He called me an absolute nightmare. He always does. The same thing he called the person in his letters. The thought made my stomach flip, even if I had just eaten.

No.

Can't think about that.

I don't respond to his taunts. I can't. He will insult me, and I feel the urge to fight back, but then I remember his words, his soft caring words. It is as if I am seeing behind his mask, his mouth soft, eyes shining, the barbs losing their venom.

I wanted to… I don't know what I wanted. Too many things not to think about. 

But it was Baz, so that was impossible. And I was friends with one of the most perceptive people in the world.

"Simon, is everything okay?" Penny asked me, her voice was soft, genuine concern on her features.

We were in the dining hall and I was stuffing my face with roast beef. She had a book open by her side, away from me and any danger of being smeared with crumbs.

"Yes, why?" I said, mouth still full.

"You haven't talked about Baz all week, your quota is empty."

I swallowed. Thank Merlin Agatha wasn't with us, she and I were on another 'break'. I really didn’t want to have this conversation with her here. 

"I, um, didn't want to talk about him?"

A cold stare over her glasses. 

"It's just that… I, readhislovelettersandnowcantstopthinkingaboutthem."

"What? Slower please."

I scooped up a bit of potatoes, talking into my plate.

"I read his love letters and now I can't stop thinking about them."

"Huh, didn't imagine that is how it would go down."

"What?"

"When did he give them to you?

"What? Nono, I went through his stuff." 

"Simon, really?"

"Yes."

Penny stared at me, like a math problem she was trying to solve. I don't know what she saw on my face. But whatever it was, she let out a sigh, and finally said, "And why can't you stop thinking about them?"

"I don't know!" Not true, I did, it was Baz, but this is why I didn't want to tell Penny.

"Si, it's alright, you can tell me."

"I said I don't know!" I was getting flustered, my magic leaking, people around giving me sidelong glances.

"If you say so Simon." I felt like I was being scolded, but then, that was Penny for you. She was wrinkling her nose at the smell of my magic, she still found it overpowering, even after all the exposure.

We didn't talk about it anymore. That didn't stop me from thinking about it.

Maybe it was a plot, to make me let down my guard around Baz, so that when the final blow came I would be unprepared. Because I thought Baz likes...No must stop right there.

But who else was he writing them to?

A posh bloke he saw during the summer, maybe. The idea didn't sit well with me, I didn't know the guy and I already wanted to punch him.

I stabbed my fork down harder than necessary, the magic was not going away.

"Simon…" Penny warned, still covering her nose.

I needed answers.

“Penny, how do you undo concealment spells?” 

**Baz**

Simon was plotting. I knew it because he is so obvious, an open book, every emotion he ever feels displayed on his face for everyone to see. Another reason why I love him. Eight snakes, I’m soft. 

But the fact was, Simon was plotting, which is usually my area. (Not that I have ever plotted anything to harm him, ever, I can’t). 

I expected some stalking, maybe another attempt to prove my vampirism. Crowley, even another polecat. What I didn’t expect was to walk into the room to find Snow, arse sticking out of my closet, the air already stinking of his magic. 

“Snow. What are you doing?” He was in my closet, where my letters were. He hadn’t found them, right? Fuck. 

“Nothing.” he said, too quickly, jumping back and falling with a thud. 

“Looking through my stuff again Snow, pathetic, as if I would let the evidence of my plotting laying around.” I stepped closer, trying to muster up all the indignation and anger I felt, in reality I was a wreck, my hands were shaking and I was praying he wouldn’t notice. A quick glance inside, my clothes were shoved aside with no grace or care, but I didn't see the book anywhere. 

“I wasn’t…you..” 

“Then don’t, you idiot.” I wanted this done with, and Snow away from my secrets. 

“You aren’t plotting.” he said, not meeting my gaze. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You aren’t plotting.” He stared at me now, eyes bright and piercing. 

“Well, as I said, you wouldn’t know that would you?” 

“I saw your letters.” 

I froze, staring down at him. 

Nononono. 

“What letters Snow?” My voice cracked at the end. I was one steps away from collapsing, or maybe punching him for poking his nose where it didn't belong. Was it too much to ask for Snow to let me suffer in peace?

“Your love letters, I saw them.” He spoke with more confidence, all riled up in whatever righteous story he concocted to justify his snooping. 

“You must be imagining things.” 

“I was not.” he tugged at his curls, he hadn’t bothered getting up from the floor.

I looked dead into his eyes, warmth and pain and frustration on his face. You really are an open book Simon. 

“Fine, you caught me, I wrote them.” Now I was plotting, crafting a story to get Snow off my back. This was going to hurt. But I had the letters didn’t I?

“Who are they for?” Now he stood up, stepping closer to me than necessary, filling my senses with moles, and butter and Simon. 

“They’re for Agatha.” 

His face fell in confusion, “But, they were for a bloke!” 

Shit. 

I sighed, covering my face with my hand, hoping that wouldn’t betray me. 

“Yes Snow, they are for a bloke, you know how to read.” 

“Who?” He stepped closer, one movement and I would be touching him, his warmth seeping into my skin, making me feel alive again. I couldn’t do this.

“His name is Elliot Pierson, from the Families.” No such person existed, but he didn’t know that. 

“What!?”

All of a sudden the warmth was gone, Snow was gone, his face breaking. Why? He shouldn’t care this much. But he clearly did, because he didn’t even spare me a glance before running out of the room. As if I had just broken his heart. But that was impossible. Snow hated me, was straight and had Agatha. So why was he acting like this? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Thank you for reading! I hope it was at the very least interesting.  
> (Sorry for the format errors on the first chapter, I just figured out how this thing works)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale.

**Simon**

I was an idiot. Why did I ask?

I ran out of Murmmurs, no set direction, finding myself in the Wavering Woods before even catching my breath. 

Elliot Pierson. From the Families. 

Why did I ask? 

Baz looked so cold when he said it, like he really didn’t care, like the letters were just for show and I was a fool for believing them. For even thinking…

I came across a clearing, sitting down on the soft grass. I was alone, even the sun had hidden behind some clouds, the dryads had kept away from me. I don’t know if I could deal with anyone right now. 

Why did I care this much? I shouldn't!

My chest was on fire, like a stab wound, but so much worse, as I imagined Baz, hand in hand with this Elliot.

I couldn't stand it. He didn't deserve Baz. Handsome, fucking ruthless, intelligent Baz. He didn't. 

And I just wanted to be him. Whoever this Elliot was. I wanted to be the one next to Baz.

Wait.

What?

I slumped against a tree, tugging at my curls.

I wanted to be the one next to Baz, to hold his hand, to kiss him. I wanted to be the one he wrote the letters to, full of love and care and warmth.

And I thought, I thought that he felt the same. 

What an idiot. Even if the letters sounded like they were for me. Baz still hated me. 

But I didn’t. 

How hadn't I realized sooner?

It felt inevitable. Loving Baz was just something I did, thinking or not.

I need to talk to Penny.

That got me up, running towards the girls dormitories. I already knew which window was Penny’s, it was not the first time I had thrown rocks at it in an emergency.

Some wild gesturing afterwards, and she and I were sitting in a corner of the library, Penny casting **Nothing to see here** and **Quiet as a Mouse** on us.

“What is it Simon?”   
“I think I fancy Baz." I whispered, heart drumming in my ribcage.

Penny just nodded, as if it was expected. Maybe it was, in some ways. I don't know when I started feeling like this, I just knew it had been a while.

“Was it the letters?”

“Yeah.” I let my head rest on my arms, my whole body felt heavy, my eyes blurred with tears.

“Si, what happened?”

“They aren’t for me.” I broke out, “I-I thought they were, but they’re for s-someone else.”

Penny extended her hand, rubbing circles on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” she said, as my tears fell onto the table. 

She let me cry, not saying much, until I finally calmed down.

“Thanks Pen.” 

“Anytime.” 

I dried my face, but still felt the hollow in my chest.

“And who were they for?”

“Someone named Elliot Pierson, from the Families.”

“Pierson? Never heard of him.”

“Don't think he goes to Watford.”

“No, I mean I don’t remember anyone from the Old Families called Pierson.”

“What?” Hope sparked in my mind, almost as if lit by a current of magic.

“Wait here.” Penny disappeared into the bookshelves, coming back with a huge leather bound volume, and proceeded to flip through the yellowed pages at a breakneck speed.

“Peterson, Piper, Pitch,...” She shoved the book towards me, “No, no Pierson.”

I didn’t even check, I trusted Penny. Instead, my mind was grappling with the fact that Baz _lied._ Why?

“Now, didn’t you say you thought the letters were about you.”

“Yes, gotta go Penny.” I was already standing, adrenaline pumping, a smile breaking onto my face.

“Keris owes me 5 pounds.” she muttered, as I sprinted out of the library.

  
  
  


**Baz**

Snow burst into our room like a wild elephant, eyes finding mine, a spark of _something_ in them. I set down my violin, already preparing for a fight. 

“What Snow?” 

In a blink he was on me, lips pressed against mine. 

I let out an undignified squeak, arms raising to curl around his neck, in a foolhardy attempt to regain control. 

Needless to say I lost, Snow’s mouth was warm and demanding, and in mere moments I was melting against him. 

He’d done this before, angling his chin as he deepened the kiss, his hand tangled in my hair. Destroying any thoughts, any words I had, except for...

“Simon…” I whispered, as we parted to regain our breaths. 

He didn’t respond, and I opened my eyes to find his grinning at me, “I knew they were for me.” 

That snapped me out of my daze, “You what?” 

“The letters, they’re for me, right?” He looked so earnest, a bit scared maybe, and I looked closer, I noticed the trail of fallen tears on his face. 

My heart broke all over again, I did this, just because I couldn’t admit that I loved him. Never again. “Yes Snow, they are for you.” 

His grin grew even wider, and he pulled me back to his mouth, hand caressing my cheek. “Simon.” he said, pulling away again. 

“What?” I tried chasing his warmth. 

“You called me Simon.” 

“No I didn’t.” I was sure I did, but I had admitted enough. 

“You did.” 

I shut him up by kissing him again, and we didn’t speak again for a long time. Not that I was complaining. 

It wasn't until much later, with darkness covering us like a shroud, when we were both tangled up in my bed, just cuddling for a few moments, that he brought up the subjects of the letters again.

"Baz." He said, head tucked under my chin.

I hummed in response.

"Why didn't you tell me? About the letters?"

I shifted so I could look at him, curled up next to me like I had imagined so many times, "Would you have believed me?"

He shut his mouth with a snap, brows pinching in frustration.

"Mouth breather." I teased, running my hand through his curls. (I still couldn't believe I could do this, I would never get tired of it).

"I...no." he finally said, "I thought it was a plot."

"Of course you did." 

"Shush, I'm trying to say something." 

My mouth quirked upward. 

"I thought it was a plot, for me to fall for you or something, then I realized that it had already happened."

I didn't speak, just leaned down and kissed the mole under his eye, then the ones on his nose, his cheeks. "It worked." I whispered against his skin.

He grumbled, but pulled me back towards his lips. Kissing me like I had always dreamed, just how I wrote in the letters.

"I was an idiot for not figuring it out sooner." He said later, after much more snogging.

"Then we are both fools in love." 

…

Legend has it that the next afternoon, Simon found a note on his desk. 

_To Simon,_

_This better have not been a dream._

_Love, Baz._

He just grinned, and went off to find his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank so for reading, comments and kudos are deeply appreciated.


End file.
